Useless Things
by amberesque
Summary: Jace and Clary are the popular kids. They get to have anyone they want, and they take them willingly. In the eyes of their peers, Clary and Jace would be perfect together. But their peers don't know that Clary and Jace despise one another and they are determined to make sure no one finds out. What happens when someone catches them fighting and they have to cover for themselves?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story! It is my hope that the chapters to come will be longer than this, but I thought that I would just put up something short to see what kind of response I get. I have a lot of ideas for this story and I am excited to see where it goes.**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Cassandra Clare.**

"I'll leave my number on the counter," the guy standing at the foot of my bed tells me as he buttons up his pants. He stretches, and his arms knock over a massive pile of notes, homework I never bothered to finish, and in progress sketches.

I stretch out across my bed, languishing in the silky feel of my five thousand thread count silk sheets against my naked body. "Mm, don't bother," I tell him, my voice slow and drawly. "I won't call you."

"What the fuck?," he says. "We had a good time last night. Why are you being such a bitch right now?"

I sigh and sit up, letting the covers pool around my hips. I smirk when his eyes float down to my chest. "That's right, buddy. We had a good time last night, but I told you that that was all that I was interested in," I say, effectively drawing his attention back up to my face.

"I thought that it was supposed to be the chick that's all clingy after you sleep with her," he says his voice taking on a whiny quality as he drags his hand over the dark brown stubble on his jaw line, managing to both turn me on and off at the same time, which let me tell you, is quite disconcerting.

"That's what they all think, honey," I tell him, patronizingly. I throw the covers off of me, and climb out of bed, my green eyes flashing with annoyance. I walk across the room and pull on my shimmery, dark blue robe. I look up at the guy as I tie the knot, and glare at him when I catch him surveying my body appreciatively, his hands hovering over his belt. Jesus, he thinks I want to go for round two, doesn't he?

I walk over to him, and poke him in the chest, hard. He jerks back, and claps his hand over top of mine in surprise. "What the hell are you doing?," he asks me, his voice hoarse.

"My god, will you watch the language? My window's open and there are kids that live in this complex. Now get out of my apartment, whatever your name is."

He puts his hands on his hips and glares at me. "Seriously?," he asks. "I went home with you last night and you can't even be bothered to remember my name?" I have to stifle a laugh, because he looks so much like a pissed off socialite right now, with his dark brown hair all gelled up, and his clothes that probably cost more than his tuition.

"Well, apparently," I snark. He's really starting to get on my nerves.f

"My name is Liam, if you even care."

I look at him as if he's an idiot. "No, I really don't care. Now will you please leave. And be quiet on your way out; I don't want you to wake up my mom."

He huffs out a breath. "Okay, _fine_," he reluctantly agrees, gathering up his items and walking out of my bedroom. Praise Yahweh, he finally left. The guys that I bring home normally don't give me that much trouble, but I guess that he's a clingy one.

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><p>"Hey, Izzy," I greet my best friend as I open the passenger side door to her cherry-red Honda Civic.<p>

"Hey, Clary," she responds, her sunglasses blocking my view of her chocolate brown eyes that are the same color as the short, revealing dress that she is wearing. "How's life going?"

"Pretty good. The guy that I took home last night gave me hell this morning. I thought that he was going to start throwing shit around, and wake up my mom."

"Wow, sucks for you. And he was hot, too."

I sigh, and lean back in my seat, putting my worn out tennis shoes that are the total opposite of Isabelle's eight-inch heels on the dashboard. "Tell me about it." I close my eyes and Izzy turns up the radio. We listen to the blaring music until we pull into the school parking lot. Isabelle pulls into her parking spot toward the front of the lot, and we get out of the car, and walk into the school.

I hurry to my first period class, because we are already running a bit late. I slide into my seat next to my other best friend Simon. "Hey, Lewis," I greet him, dropping my extremely heavy backpack on the floor.

"Hey Clary," he says, with his signature kind of smirk, but kind of not. His black gamer shirt is making the dark brown of his eyes look brighter than they actually are. "How's it going with your latest conquests?"

"Shut up," I laugh, slapping him gently on the arm. "And the guy this morning _sucked_, for your information."

"Oh, wow, poor you," he mocks me. "Every guy that you meet is attracted to you, you're super popular without everyone hating you, and you can do whatever you want with practically no parental supervision, your life really sucks."

"Yes, it really does," I reply, miffed.

"Okay, sure," he says, his voice exaggerated. We both look up as the teacher calls us to attention, and I sit back in my seat, putting my books on my desk.

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><p><em>"Bring!<em>" The bell jolts me from my drawing. My math teacher likes to hear himself talk, and he has one of the most monotone voices ever, so his class is the perfect environment for me to draw and not pay attention in. I am slow to gather my stuff together, even though I see Isabelle impatiently waiting for me outside the room. I finally get my stuff together, and walk out the door to meet her.

"Hey." She nudges me, smiling. "Guess who's down the hallway and looking at us?" I look down the hallway and my gaze locks with the one and only golden god. _Jace Wayland._ He smirks at me, and not even Simon's cute little, half-smirk, half-not. It's an evil smirk, filled with malevolence, and his golden eyes have a smug look in them that makes my green ones flash in return.

"Whoo, you guys are getting me hot, girl." Isabelle's voice pulls me out of my silent war with the demon who thinks he's a god, and I look over to see her fanning herself.

"Jesus, Izzy. What are you doing?," I ask, laughing.

She throws her hands up in protest. "What?! I'm not doing anything!"

"Right. Sure you aren't," I respond sarcastically. "Come on, Iz, you know I hate him. Nothing is ever going to happen between us. I would rather tear my own throat out, no matter how palpable you think the sexual tension is."

"Well, that's good to know because I'm pretty sure it's so thick you could cut it with a knife."

"Shut up Isabelle."

"Okay, okay. But one day, you're going to tell me why you hate him so much."

"Yeah. One day," I tell her, wistfully.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading this! I'm so excited to share this chapter with you, as it is the chapter in which Jace and Clary have their first interaction! It was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it. Every thanks to my fabulous beta Gracie, who manages to add the wit that I find myself lacking at times, and keeps me from letting my characters get too OOC. I want to say thank you to everyone who has followed and favorited this story, especially in the short time since I have posted it. I am astounded and so grateful by the positive response that I have gotten on this. When I posted this, I honestly thought that no one was going to read it, so the amount of people that have amazes me. Sorry for that rambly A/N! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Cassandra Clare.**

Isabelle and I are walking out of the school when I catch sight of Jace, standing in the shadow of a statue of the school's mascot, motioning me over to him. He looks like a drug dealer beckoning me from a dark alleyway. I sigh, tell Isabelle that I'll meet her at her car in five minutes, and walk over to him. He moves toward me, into the sunlight, causing the sun to make his blond hair practically glow. He approaches me, and I watch him, my eyes lusting over the way the sun casts a glowing halo around him, making him look like an avenging angel in his white t-shirt and black jeans. Oh, the irony. '_God, I'd like to draw him,' _I think.

"Stop staring at me, Red," he says, patronizingly, ruffling my hair.

I slap his hand away, glaring at him. "Don't call me that," I snap.

He puts his hands up in an 'I surrender' position. "Hey, you came over to me."

I roll my eyes. "Because you wanted me to come over. Now, what do you want?"

He puts a finger over my mouth. "Hush, little bunny."

I jerk back. "What the hell, you asshole? Don't touch me!"

"Clarissa, you mustn't act so hostile towards me, especially where our dearest classmates can see us."

I groan. "_Fine_," I concede, with exaggerated irritation. "Whatever could I help you with?," I ask, my voice bittersweet, like dark chocolate.

"Ah, that's much better," he says, smiling at me condescendingly, which makes me tense up, even though I try not to show it. "Coach wants to see both of us in his office."

I look at him questioningly. "Why does your soccer coach want to see us?," I ask.

He shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine. All he told me is that he wants to see the both of us in his office at three o'clock." He looks at his expensive-looking silver and gold watch. "And since it's two fifty-five now, we better get over there."

I sigh, and run my hand through my fiery locks, knocking the pencil that I had forgotten I had stuck behind my ear to the ground. I bend down to get it, and bang my head into Jace's. I yelp, and jerk back, accidentally knocking myself off balance. I stumble, wobbling a bit, before falling to the ground. I look up at Jace, and find him laughing at me. I press my lips into a line, and look down at my feet, that stupid pen lying next to them. I grab it and shove it into my tote bag, scrambling to get up off the ground as gracefully as possible. "Alright, let's go," I say, avoiding his overconfident gaze, as I head towards the front doors of the school. We speed walk through the school, attempting to not be late, since Mr. Adams, who also happens to be my government teacher, can be quite intimidating when he chooses to be. We arrive at his office just as the clock strikes three, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I seat myself in one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

"What can we help you with, Coach?," Jace asks him, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows resting on his knees.

"Well," Mr. Adams begins, smoothing out his thinning, gray hair. "It seems as if Jace has been having some trouble in my class." Jace stiffens up, and I see his eyes dart over to me, and then back to Coach, as if he doesn't want me hearing this.

"I don't see what this has to do with Clary," he tells Mr. Adams, his voice sharp.

Mr. Adams looks at Jace, his eyes grave. "Jace, you're a fantastic soccer player, one of the best on my team, but the school won't condone your academic behavior. Your teachers, the administrators, and I have decided that you can stay on the team if you get tutored in my class until you get your grade up."

"But why does it have to be Clary, Coach?," Jace protests.

Mr. Adams sighs, and leans back in his seat. "I did everything I could, Jace, but they wanted to not even let you play until your grade goes up. I barely managed to convince them to agree with this. Clary is a very bright student who I believe could benefit for being required to push herself more. Besides, it's not as if you two don't get along. I wouldn't think that it would be that much of a struggle for you two to spend time together, especially since you will only be focused on academic pursuits, or at least, I hope so." You have got to be kidding me.

I can practically see the wheels turning in Jace's brain, trying to think of anything that could get us out of it. "I'm not sure that I am going to have the time to tutor him," I tell him, feigning regret. "I'm really busy, and I don't know that I will have enough free time in my schedule to put in the amount of effort that would be expected for a project like this."

"I thought that you might say that Clary, but I really do think that having you apply yourself more will benefit you, so I have decided that this is going to be a grade for you."

"Just in this class?," I ask, thinking that my grade is good enough that I can fail this and keep a fairly good grade.

He shakes his head, attempting to appear apologetic, but I catch the self-pleased glint in his eyes. "It'll be a grade for all of your classes, Clary."

I groan and slide down in my seat, covering my face with my hands. "So I have to do it, don't I?," I ask, feeling dejected.

"I'm afraid so, unless you want your grades to severely suffer, which I know you don't."

"Okay," I agree, reluctantly. "I'll do it."

We walk out of his office into the eerily silent corridor. I can hear Mr. Adams humming what sounds like a victory tune. I glance at Jace and his gaze locks on mine, the awkwardness between us growing thicker and more potent with every second. We are both thinking the same thing, for the first, and probably the last time ever. _ This is going to suck._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello my lovelies! Sorry it's been so long since I updated, but school has been crazy. And no one wants to be reading those super long author's notes so I'll be letting you get straight to it. Thanks to everyone that has followed, and reviewed, the support means the world to me. And thanks to my beta, Gracie!**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Cassandra Clare.**

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><p>I am jerked out of the fog that sketching had put me in by the beeping noise of an incoming call on my phone. I sit up and stretch out, groaning as my back, stiff from hours spent bent over a sketch pad, stretches. I pick up my phone, and press the mute button, silencing my annoying ring tone that I have yet to change. <em>Unknown caller. <em>I wrinkle my brow, confused. 'What unknown caller would be calling me?' "Hello?"

"Hey, Clary. It's Jace."

"Um, hi Jace. How did you get my phone number?"

He laughs awkwardly. "Ah, Coach gave it to me so that we can set up tutoring dates and stuff. Yeah, sorry if you weren't okay with that."

Okay, this is weird. Jace is being, dare I say, _nice to me_? "Um," I begin, my voice hesitant. "That's okay. So, do you want to set up a date?"

There's a hesitation from Jace's end. "Yeah, I guess so. What days are you free?"

"Well, I can't do Wednesdays, because I have my art class, and I have a volunteer thing on Friday nights, but I can do any day but Wednesday after school and nights except for Wednesdays and Fridays. Will that work for you?"

"I have soccer practice right after school Monday through Thursday, but it ends at three-thirty, so if we could meet after that on maybe Tuesdays and Thursdays, that would probably be best for me."

I tuck the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I flip through my schedule book that had been sitting in its home on my desk. "That should be fine for me. So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I guess I will. Bye, Clary."

"Bye."

* * *

><p>I walk into the library, and drop my backpack onto one of the tables in the back, out of sight of the librarian. I am leaning over my backpack, trying to wiggle out my government textbook out from where I had squeezed it in between two binders. I almost have it out of my backpack when I hear a deep voice coming from behind me. "Hello," the voice says. I jerk up, dropping the textbook, and my gaze connects with Jace's. I groan, and turn away from him, going back to work on my textbook, which had slid back down into the depths of my bag.<p>

It takes me another five minutes to get my book out. When I finally do, I put it on the table in front of me, and meet Jace's eyes with a glare. He smiles back at me, cockily, as per usual. "What?," he asks, all innocently. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

My eyes narrow. "You know exactly why," I hiss.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed. "Aw, come on sweetheart. I'm just here for tutoring. I don't mean to be doing anything to upset you."  
>I roll my eyes at his sugar-sweet tone. "Sure you don't. Now let's get started I want to get this over with as soon as possible." We spend the next hour and a half poring over the textbook, skipping over the stuff that Jace understands, and lingering on the things that he doesn't.<p>

* * *

><p>I sigh and prop my head up on my hands, my elbows resting on the table. "Okay, Jace," I tell him, attempting to get him to understand the US court system. "So, if I decided to sue you for the emotional damage that you have caused me by being an asshat, what kind of court would we go to?"<p>

"Could you do that?"

"I don't know! Just answer the question Jace!"

"Um, well, okay. So, it would be the general district court, right? Assuming that we are both eighteen, of course."

I throw my hands up in the air. "Oh, praise Yahweh, you got it right! Yahweh, you do love me!"

"Hey!," Jace says, indignantly. "I'm not that bad at this stuff."

I level him with a piercing glare. "Sure, Jace. Sure you aren't."

"God, Clary, you're so judgmental. Just leave me alone. I am nothing but nice to you and you are so mean to me." He looks at me a sparkling twinkle in his eyes that conflicts with the pitiful twist of his mouth.

"Alright, Jace," I tell him, my tone condescending. "Whatever you say." I start to gather my things up. "I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him, flinging my backpack over my shoulder, and walking toward the door.

"Bye, Clary." The smirky tone of his voice makes me turn around to look at him. I find him with his eyes glued to my ass. "Eyes up, Wayland," I call out.

He smirks at me. "Oh, but Clary, the view is just so good."

"I know, Jace. But you see, I have this rule that says you're only allowed to stare at my ass if you're allowed in my bed, and we both know that'll never happen."

"That's your decision. I'd be in your bed in a heartbeat, because as nasty as you act, you're hot as hell."

"Aw, Jace, you're so sweet. It's a shame really, but I have these lovely little things called_ standards_, I know that you've probably never heard of them before seeing as you sleep with anything that's female and that moves, but one of mine is that I don't sleep with assholes. So, that puts you completely out of the running." With that, I walk out of the library, not giving Jace a second glance, even though I'm turning him over and over in my mind. Jace has actually been kind of _nice_ for the past hour of so, aside from that last little exchange. And, even though he's an asshole, he's a very good looking one. And Isabelle _is_ always saying that she's convinced that we're going to end up with each other. Maybe..._no_. Jace Wayland and I are _never_ going to get together. I laugh a little to myself as I pass the main desk in the front.

"Miss Fray," a voice speaks behind me. I stop dead in my tracks. I turn around to see the librarian right behind me. "Mr. Hodges," I say rather nervously.

"Next time," he hissed. "Be sure to keep your private 'ass talk' out of my library. Do you understand?" Shit, he could hear us.

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><p><strong>Haha, what does Clary know? Thanks for the support you guys have been giving me, and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to follow, favorite, review, whatever suits your fancy!<strong>


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